


Shield of the King

by ferix79



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Everybody Lives, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hugs, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon, Prince and Shield marriage-esque ceremony, Wakes & Funerals, boys crying, brotherhood era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-08 00:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12852393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferix79/pseuds/ferix79
Summary: One time Noct comforted Gladio, and one time Gladio comforted Noct. Set in Brotherhood and Post Canon, respectively.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Gladnoct Week's Day 3 prompt: Noctis loves to be comforted by Gladio's hugs.

Gladiolus Amicitia was made for hugs. Despite his muscles and tattoos and six-foot-six frame, it was an unarguable fact that _everyone_ in the Citadel knew.

Despite the fact, the truth was that Gladio was also not the most approachable person in the Citadel. Being the heir to one of the most powerful families in the city meant his reputation preceded him, nevermind that he was only ever seen with his father, the Prince’s inner circle, or the much older Kingsglaive members that he trained with. Add in how many prospective wives, only interested in his lineage and wealth,  he turned down every week and Gladio’s reputation came out a well blended mix of _high bred_ and _frighteningly strong._ Not just anyone could approach Gladiolus Amicitia.

Luckily, Prince Noctis was not just anyone. He knew better than ‘just anyone’, too.

To the average bystander, Noctis imagined that it looked like he very much enjoyed Gladio’s hugs. And, well, that was _true_ , but most people conveniently forgot that Gladio was a living, breathing, loving person under those leather pants and tattoos and muscles. Just as much as Noctis enjoyed being comforted by Gladio’s hugs, Gladio enjoyed being comforted by Noctis’.

It didn’t even occur to Noctis until Gladio really needed him. He was fifteen, emotional and awkward and unsure of his place in the world, while Gladio was eighteen and had just lost his mother.

It was a memory Noctis could always recall, clear as day.

Gladio’s ever-growing, unruly mane was slicked back away from his face while a black suit, starched white shirt and black necktie hid his massive, unfinished eagle tattoo. In his trembling hands sat a simple bouquet of white gladiolus flowers—to be placed right next to Iris’ matching bouquet of irises on their mother’s coffin. Dark bags hung under his eyes while unshed tears clouded them, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

His father and sister stood behind him, Clarus’ hand resting on his shoulder while Iris sniffled into her father’s side.

Even with all his money, all his father’s power, Noctis was powerless at the time Gladio needed him most.

He never knew an Amicitia, one of the shields of Lucis, could cry so much.

“Do you need anything?” he asked Gladio, who was still staring, emotionless, at the lush grass and colorful flowers of the Citadel’s private cemetery while most of the funeral party had dissipated. His shield didn’t answer for a moment and Noctis fidgeted with the cuffs of his suit.

It took a moment, but Gladio raised a weary hand and let it fall heavy on Noctis’ shoulder.

“No, Noct, I…I’m doin’ okay, I don’t need…I don’t…” Dammit, _he_ was supposed to be strong for the prince, not the other way around. Gladio felt his voice failing, “I just need…I just…”

Tears overtook him again, hitting the stone path beneath them with soft plip-plip sounds. He didn’t _need_ anything—he _wanted_ his mom back. But here he was, helpless and crying in front of his future king.

Without another word Noct took one, two steps forward and wrapped his arms around Gladio's waist. His head fit perfectly into the space under Gladio’s chin, like it belonged there. Nerves pricked through his body as he waited for Gladio's reaction. He and Gladio never exchanged friendly, affectionate touches beyond high fives and fist bumps-- what if his touch wasn't welcome?

Prompto was a fervent hugger, seeking affection often and without a care. Ignis not so much, but he always made time for Noct when he was feeling down. Prompto’s hugs were quick and cheery while Ignis’ were the kind Noct wanted to drown in. What would Gladio's be like, he wondered.

Suffocating, it turned out, but in the best way. Gladio's larger frame completely enveloped him until the world beyond their embrace faded away. He felt so small compared to his shield, but he'd never felt more safe. Was his embrace doing the same for Gladio? He didn't know, but at least his friend wasn't pulling away.

To one of the bystanders lingering around the cemetery, he imagined it looked like Noct was desperate for the comfort of Gladio's all encompassing hug, but never had the opposite been more true.

Gladio clung to Noct, desperate and touch-starved over the last few days of mourning. Admitting he needed companionship wasn't something he could just do--not the big, strong Amicitia boy. Lucky for him he already had a near constant companion in the form of Noct. His duty, his constant dedication...but still, all of it paled in comparison to the comfortable weight of Noctis’ arms around him.

He’d never admit it to anyone, he told himself, he'd keep this secret safe and guarded under tattoos and muscle. Behind shields and greatswords and battle cries.  

No one needed to know Gladio enjoyed being comforted by Noct’s hugs just as much as Noct loved being comforted by his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in a vague everybody lives AU. I refer to “the old tongue” a few times here. Since a lot of the game’s names and music have latin roots and lyrics, Im using “the old tongue” as a cover name for Latin in their universe. Since it’s such an old language not many people know it and it’s usually used for ceremonial or traditional things.

It was an old Lucian tradition, and if that wasn’t the definition of Gladio and Noctis’ lives up until then they didn’t know what was. _Everything_ that the Prince or Shield had to do was some kind of old Lucian tradition.

Noctis remembered discussing the ceremony before they left. They had to wait until Noctis married his Queen, then they would all return to Insomnia and Gladio would officially commit himself to both the King and Queen of Lucis and take over as the Official Shield. It was all very officially official and a bit obnoxious, if you were asking him. But it was the way things had always been, his father often reminded him, and the tradition would not end with Noctis.  

Gladio figured it was a passing of the torch—his old man passing the duty on to him, as it were. But after their grand adventure was over he realized that his father never planned on attending the ceremony. He was never going to have the torch passed to him—the ceremony was a symbol of him picking up the burnt out stick from the ashes and trying to find the fire within himself to light it once more.

Point was, their grand adventure was over and the King and Queen decided against marrying, so was there even a reason to put on the ceremony anymore? But the people would love it, their advisors said. They needed something to cement Noctis as King in their minds.

There were still history books and records, older men and women that attended the previous ceremony where Clarus committed himself to Regis and Aulea. There were hundreds of accounts of previous ceremonies for them to go off of, but…something was still off.

Their dads weren’t around anymore, was the problem. Not there to watch and guide them through the ceremony like so many fathers did to sons before.

Instead of reading over his father’s decades old script, Gladio rehearsed and memorized the lines of his oath with a tutor of the old tongue, humbly requesting a few changes that were more personal to Noct and himself.

It was also tradition, he was informed, to keep the lines of the oath a secret before the ceremony. Few, if any, Kings and Queens knew the old tongue well enough to understand it, so during the ceremony they listened with stone faces and did their part. Only after the ceremony, in private, did the Shield hand over a written translation of their vows. It was all a very personal affair, Ignis told him.

It felt selfish, keeping Noct all to himself after the people of Insomnia had been through so much. They deserved to see and hear and learn everything about their King, their fabled savior. But, if Gladio was honest?

He treasured every little bit and scrap of their lives that he could keep all to himself.

Noctis—instead of getting fitted for his custom suit while his father watched him with loving eyes—got fitted in silence in between meetings and speeches and restoration plans. Ignis helped out with the colors and design, because Noctis had no kind of eye for that.

And, instead of learning the motions of knighting his Shield with his father’s hand over his, guiding his arm just the way it needed to flow, Noct practiced with an older gentleman with stern eyebrows. His motions were curt and stiff and impersonal, and Noct was a little let down about the whole thing. It was supposed to be special or something, Prompto told him after reading a glowing account of Regis’ ceremony.

He didn’t feel special.

On the morning of the ceremony, while Noct was gazing at himself in the mirror, he still didn’t feel any better. The suit was probably the nicest piece of clothing he’d ever donned. The Lucian crown curled over his ear like it was made just for him. Everything, everyone was ready. Decorations and cameras in place. Dozens upon dozens of people lined the throne room to witness the rare event. Hundreds, thousands lined the streets to watch the ceremony broadcast on large screens placed around the city. Construction and business would halt while the Shield took his oath to the King. The eyes of the entire city would rest solely on them.

Here Noctis stood, under the weight of it all, and he knew he wasn’t ready.

He still wasn’t ready to come to grips with the passing of his father. He didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to take over as King.

Inevitably, time marched on.

The door to his bedchamber opened at 9:48 and oh, he was three minutes late to meeting Ignis and Prompto outside. It was Ignis entering his room then, because Prompto didn’t have the will to disturb him and Gladio was somewhere else in the Citadel making his own preparations. The Shield and King weren’t to see each other before the ceremony—only during; another odd custom that Noct didn’t fully understand.

But the strong, familiar hand that rested across his chest certainly didn’t belong to his advisor.

Instead of Ignis’ slim, serious frame, Noctis’ mirror was overtaken by Gladio himself, his reflection almost too tall to fit in the mirror. Noctis couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away from his own fearful gaze, tears overflowing as the weight, the _time_ , and the significance of the ceremony collapsed on him all at once.

Gladio smiled, sad and fond. “You look stunning,” he offered, his other hand grasping Noct’s upper arm to complete a solid, reassuring embrace, “my King.”

Only after the first few tears rolled down Noctis’ cheeks did he break his own gaze and look up to Gladio. Noct could say the same of him—Gladio’s unruly, grown out mane was pulled back into a regal bun and his Kingsglaive uniform was decorated with more braids than Noctis had ever seen. Guess the Shield had to look unique and important in his own way, too.

“Thanks,” he wheezed out on an exhale, voice full of tears. Astrals, what was he going to do now?

“What’s wrong?” Gladio continued, never breaking eye contact with him through the mirror, but lifting a finger to swipe away the tears underneath Noctis’ eyes, “Jus’ overwhelmed?”

“Yeah, I…” he had to pause, a lump caught in his throat, “I miss my dad. I miss _both_ our dads.” He gasped through another sob after finally admitting it, slapping his own hand over Gladio’s in a desperate need for contact.

Gladio’s face broke, his smile drooping.

“Yeah, I know Noct.”

He and Noctis both knew that there was no answer to that. Many, many people all across Lucis lost family during the war. It would hurt and ache for a long time—maybe even the rest of their lives—but there was nothing to do about it now.

“C’mon though, you act like they haven’t been watching over us the whole time,” he did his best to lift his voice, intertwining their hands as he turned Noct away from the mirror. They couldn’t mope _all_ day, after all…but perhaps they could fit in a bit more moping time that evening.

Noctis did his best to look presentable as Gladio ushered him out of the room. He was almost glad that Ignis couldn’t see him for once, hastily drying his tears on the backs of his silk gloves. In the atrium outside Noctis’ chambers Ignis and Prompto greeted them. They were dressed in the same outfit as Gladio, but with significantly less braids across the arms of their jackets.

“What is this, a wedding?” Prompto chuckled when Gladio and Noctis emerged, hand in hand. Noctis’ face flushed.

“Only if I get to kiss the groom,” Gladio said without missing a beat, and proceeded to lean down and press a scruffy, affectionate peck on Noctis’ cheek. His flush deepened as he sputtered.

“Well, we’ll have to save the reception for another day, I suppose,” Ignis added, shifting his long cane back towards the elevator and locating the down button on the wall. Reluctantly, the other three joined him.

“Well, we can have our own _private_ reception tonight,” Gladio bumped hips with Noctis, refusing to let the atmosphere dampen and drive Noct too far into his head again, “whadda’ya say, Noct. Dinner and drinks?”

The elevator dinged its arrival and the doors slid open. Noctis’ unresponsive silence was not lost on Gladio, and he looked to the other two for backup, nudging Ignis’ arm as they entered the elevator.

“You’re going to do fine, Noct,” Ignis reassured, the hand not on his cane awkwardly hovering where he assumed Noctis was standing. Eventually he gave in to uncertainty and plopped his hand down on Noct’s shoulder. He had been aiming for a reassuring hand on his partner’s back, but a shoulder was close enough. He tapped Prompto’s foot with the toe of his boot, signaling for the other man to follow his lead.

Prompto jumped at the contact but got the message, slinging an arm low on Noctis’ hips as he spoke. “Yeah, just think of it this way; it’ll be over before you know it!”

“Yeah…” Noctis finally said, the additional contact shaking him back to the present, “yeah, I guess you’re right. And sure, Glads. Dinner and drinks.” He shot his Shield a faint smile, slipping his hand into Gladio’s just as the elevator reached their floor.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Gladio agreed, pressing a kiss to the back of Noctis’ hand before the elevator doors open and their hands parted.

“Well, I guess this is where we split,” Prompto said as they stepped out. Gladio and Noctis would go right to take their places in a hallway behind the throne room, while Ignis and Prompto would join the waiting crowd.

“See you guys on the other side,” Gladio nodded, giving them a little salute as he and Noct turned and walked down the hallway. Prompto and Ignis lingered for a few moments as they went, watching until they disappeared around the corner and their footsteps couldn’t be heard anymore.

Despite being so patient before, Ignis was suddenly in a hurry, pulling at Prom’s elbow. “Come, Prompto. I need to have a spot up close so I can hear what Gladio is saying,” he said, pulling at Prompto’s elbow.

“Ignis, chill out!” he whined, but went along nonetheless, “I already told you—Nyx and Luna are saving us a spot. We’ll be fine!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You better believe that Ignis knows bits and pieces of the old tongue and wants to listen in on Gladio’s oath and try and decipher just how hard Gladio is confessing his love for Noct.   
> Hope yall enjoyed ❤

**Author's Note:**

> Find my on tumblr @ferix-writes and twitter as @ferix_writes. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
